


Search far, but forget me not, my little comet

by tasibi



Series: Little things make a snowball (Lancelot week) [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Day 3- Earth/Space, Gen, Hints to the end of war, Langst, Little Comet, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Subtle Lancelot, Supportive Lotor, coming home, it's there but its not as main focus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 04:52:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12810027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tasibi/pseuds/tasibi
Summary: For all the stars in the world could not amount to your warmth, a comet fallen away from the warmth and desperately trying to find its mother. For as the world seems to fall upon your broken hands, you find small mercies in the vast universe at hand.





	Search far, but forget me not, my little comet

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted this one to focus more on Lance, and how he seemed to reach endlessly, helpless in his attempts at grappling onto something on the inky black void. He finds companionship in the paladins and his lover, but his mother is what he needs
> 
> and WHAT IS UP WITH THESE TITLES? Like. Maybe being a poet is my true calling

 

Sometimes, Lance would seem transfixed to the wide windows, gazing intently at the stars that glowed and pulsed while showering the rooms with a blue hue. They would travel planet to planet, and each time Lance hoped he would feel the familiar warmth of  _his_ sun on his skin.

He was always left disappointed.

The lights of his own soul, which used to be so bright and full of life, slowly dimmed, like a dying star. Lance's star is special, one of a kind among the whole uncannily wide universe, unique to only him. At night he would stare at the faint hologram of the place he was birthed, tracing over his own scars and comparing them to the once clear skin he came with. What would his mother say? What would his star say? Would it mourn the death of a comet, used to being so bright and blue that in his last moments it would swallow him whole. Or would it weep, using its warmth to cascade over the death of a warrior, a soldier, a son, a  _child._  

Then a warmth, so close to his own fire that he cradled it, and it was only when the cradling began to become intimate touches in the dead of the night did he give the emotion a name,  _Love._ Love for the gentle warmth the purple skin gave off, for the smug smiles and dashing eyes, for soft silky white hair and piercing yellow eyes. Love for the small mercies his star had given him, able to find love and infatuation in a world where every word, every action, was to be judged. 

Lotor then gave him a warm smile, moving him away from the castles hologram. The former Prince still kept the strong grin as he walked Lance onto the sandy ground below, warmth seeping into his bones as familiar, aged, arms wrapped around him, the musk of the ocean fresh in tan brown hair streaked with white. 

Lotor smiled at him as Lance sobbed into his mothers shoulder.

"Welcome home, my little comet."


End file.
